


In Those Amber Eyes

by sunshineinthestorm



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Stiles breaks Lydia out of Eichen, fyi there's cursing if that bothers you, that's pretty much the only reason i decided to rate it M if you're worried about that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 04:11:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5115320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshineinthestorm/pseuds/sunshineinthestorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just when Lydia thinks that the only real things in the world are the restraints on her wrists and the voices in her head, Stiles arrives to set her free. He comes to save her. And that means that maybe, just maybe, it's not too late for her - or for him - or for them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Those Amber Eyes

"Lydia. Lydia, get up. You're getting out of here."

She blinked her eyes open, instinctually squinting against the harsh fluorescents that always blinded her—only there were no lights to squint against this time. "Wha—"

"Lydia, come on. We've got to go."

And then she saw him looking down at her, eyes slitted and angry with the world as he pulled at the belts clamping her arms to the bed. "Stiles?" she gasped. "What are you… Oh." She wrenched her hands away from him, even though the restraints dug into her wrists. "Get away from me!" she shrieked. "Don't touch me!"

Stiles— _no, this wasn't Stiles_ —put his hands up and backed away obediently, but his eyes widened just a little. "What's going on, Lydia?" he asked. "I'm just trying to—"

"You're not Stiles," she insisted, leaning as far away from him as she possibly could. "You can't be Stiles. I'm not going to be tricked like that again."

He frowned. "This isn't a trick. I came to get you out of here." The creases in his eyebrows unwrinkled (for maybe the first time since the nogitsune, for maybe the first time in as long as Lydia could remember) and he looked at her with eyes as wide and earnest as that winter formal sophomore year, when he'd told her she was smart right before everything fell to pieces. "Lydia, you have to trust me right now, okay? You don't have to trust me ever again—you don’t have to even  _look_ at me ever again if you don't want to—but you have to trust me right now. You have to trust that I can get you out of here."

For a moment, Lydia believed him. She looked into those amber eyes and almost relaxed. Then she remembered Aiden, and how real he'd seemed, and how she'd believed in him, and she shivered. "I don't. How do I know this is really you?"

Just like that, his eyebrows furrowed again, and in spite of everything, Lydia felt inexplicably guilty for taking away that open, honest expression. "It's me, Lydia. I'm Stiles." When she didn't say anything, he ran his fingers through his hair and huffed out a breath. "What can I say to convince you? I… I'm Stiles. You ignored me until this messed-up world forced you not to. I know everything about you—you're five foot three, you have green eyes and strawberry blond hair, you were sure you weren't psychic even when all we knew was that you were  _something_ , and you miss Allison every day and it's my fault."

Slowly, nervously, Lydia unclenched her fists. "Stiles."

That was all he needed to hear, apparently. In an instant, he swooped down on her restraints again, wrestling them open with those long, thin fingers she could stare at for hours. "I'm sorry, Lydia," he breathed as he moved down to the straps around her ankles. "I'm sorry about Allison, I'm sorry about Aiden, I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough to keep the nogitsune out of my mind. I'm sorry I screwed up and killed Donovan, I'm sorry I didn't tell you about it, I'm sorry I didn't figure out what Theo was planning fast enough to keep him from doing this to you, I'm sorry I didn't get you out of here sooner."

There were tears in his eyes, and her ankles were free. "Nobody told me where you were, Lyds—nobody  _knew_. And I looked for you until they told me to give up looking, but I… I shouldn't have. I should have scoured every inch of Beacon Hills until I found you because maybe you would have gotten out of here sooner. I'm sorry I thought you were dead. I'm sorry for a lot of things."

He stepped back, shaking. "You're free." His voice was too harsh, too similar to the voices crowding into Lydia's mind, but she forgave him. "Can you walk?"

"Yes."

She pushed herself out of the bed and stood up. Her legs quivered after being strapped down for so long, but her voice didn't waver. "Let's go."

...

They ran into the first orderly halfway down the first hallway. " _You_ ," the woman growled. "Trying to escape  _again_?" She turned to Stiles. "And  _you._  I remember you from last year." She sneered. "Have you returned to Eichen House to stay?"

"Hardly." Stiles moved in front of Lydia, planting himself between her and the orderly, but Lydia pushed him out of the way. She listened to all those voices building up in her brain, pounding against her skull and pressing into her throat, and she let them loose in one glass-shattering scream that made the orderly slam into the wall at the end of the hallway. She slumped over and didn't get up.

"I… How did you do that?"

Lydia glanced over at Stiles, expecting shock or fear, but all those amber eyes held was astonishment and awe. She almost smiled, but then thought better of it and turned back around. "I've been here a while," she said quickly, already running down the hallway. "I've tried to escape more times than I can count, and I learned a few things about myself and my powers. That was one of them."

"Wow," Stiles said, his footsteps pounding in time with hers. "That's awesome, Lydia."

This time, she allowed herself to smile because she knew Stiles couldn't see. "I almost made it out last time," she said. "But then I…" She shrugged, turning the corner. "They overwhelmed me."

Stiles was gasping for air as they ran, but at her words, she heard his breath hitch. "I'm sorry, Lydia." Lydia wondered just how many times he planned on repeating those words. Then she rounded another corner (just one more turn and a flight of stairs after that, and they'd be free) and almost barreled into one of the dread doctors.

She stumbled backwards, smacking into Stiles's chest.

 _"The banshee. The human who was a nogitsune."_ The dread doctor's voice hissed through the air, choking Lydia's scream like some kind of deadly gas. " _Who will we experiment on first_?"

"Lydia," Stiles said in a low, hard voice, "get behind me."

That brought Lydia back to her senses. "No." She pushed herself away from him and called the voices back. "I'm not going to let this thing take you."

She screamed—but the wall of sound barely fazed the doctor. " _Banshee. We will experiment on you."_

" _Never!_ " Before Lydia could move, Stiles grabbed her arm and yanked her back, blocking her with his own body. "You stay away from her!" Then he charged the dread doctor, and all Lydia could think was,  _He's only human_.

The voices in her head laughed in dissonant harmony.  _Your friends are all going to die, Lydia Martin._

" _STILES!"_ she shrieked as the dread doctor grabbed Stiles's throat and lifted him off his feet. " _YOU CAN'T—_ "

Suddenly, a growl rocked the hallway. Something slammed into the doctor from behind, and unlike her scream,  _this_  something had enough force to make the doctor stumble. It relaxed its grip on Stiles, who was then able to kick his way free and fall to the floor, his chest heaving. While Scott—because of course that something was Scott; who else could it be?—continued to attack the dread doctor, Lydia raced forward and grabbed Stiles's shoulders. "Oh, God, oh God, are you okay?"

Stiles coughed and shook his head like he had water clogging his ears. "Even if Scott hadn't shown up, I would have protected you," he told her. "I wouldn't have let the dread doctor—"

"I don't care about any of that right now," Lydia said, pulling him to his feet. "Stiles, what were you thinking? He could have killed you!"

"I—"

"Guys, get out of here!" Scott yelled.

Lydia whirled around just as Stiles did, like their minds were somehow linked by that emotional tether even after all this time. Scott was battling the dread doctor furiously, but he was losing. Blood trickled from a gash on his forehead. "Scott," Stiles breathed. Then louder, "Scott, I'm coming! I'll help you—"

"Not without me you aren't—"

"Lydia, we came to get you out of here, I'm not letting you—"

"Don't worry about me!" Scott insisted, raking his claws across the dread doctor's mask and ripping one of its tubes free. White gas streamed out of the tube, and the doctor let out something that almost sounded like a scream. "I'll be fine! Just go!"

Lydia hesitated, eyes flicking between Scott and Stiles.  _Your friends are all going to die_. Could she really only save one of them?

Then something dropped down from a vent in the ceiling, landing on top of the dread doctor and stabbing a katana into its shoulder. She yelled some Japanese words that Lydia couldn't understand, but she could tell from her eyes and her smile that this was no vengeful kitsune spirit. This was Kira. She was back in Beacon Hills.

"We can handle this!" Kira promised, and Scott nodded, and this time, Lydia believed them. Maybe she didn't have to save all her friends. Maybe those two could save themselves.

From the look in his eyes, Stiles was having the same reaction. He grabbed Lydia's hand and started tugging her away from the fight, following the same path out that she would have chosen.

"They'll be fine," he muttered like he was convincing himself instead of her. "We'll be fine." He practically dragged her up the stairs. When another orderly dared to confront them, he punched him without letting go of Lydia's hand for an instant. Lydia could only stare at the back of Stiles's head as they moved through the rest of Eichen House at a sprint.

They were almost at the exit when three orderlies surrounded them. Stiles squeezed Lydia's hand. "Can you scream again?"

"With pleasure." Lydia took a deep breath, let go of Stiles's hand, and released the sound she was always holding back. The orderlies didn't stand a chance. She caught a glimpse of a grin on Stiles's face, and then they were outside in the cool night air.

Stiles started down the steps, but Lydia pulled him back. "There are always more orderlies outside," she whispered. "We have to be careful. They could still stop us."

He stiffened. "I'd like to see them try."

Sure enough, more men than Lydia had time to count jumped out at them before they could reach the gate. Worse than them, though, were the two dread doctors that Lydia could see just beyond the exit. She brushed her fingers against Stiles's before she remembered that she wasn't allowed to grab his hand for support anymore—never mind that he'd grabbed hers less than five minutes earlier.

"Stiles, do you see them?" she asked under her breath. "Waiting by the jeep? I'm glad you got that repaired, by the way."

"Yeah," Stiles replied, not clarifying which part of her words he was acknowledging. "It's gonna be fine, Lyds."

"But—"

"Just take care of these orderlies," he said. "Don't worry about the dread doctors." He straightened his shoulders and narrowed his eyes. "I'm not going to let them touch you."

"Stiles—"

"Now, Lydia!"

When he attacked the man in front of them, she had no choice but to help. She spun around and kicked the man behind her, following up with an elbow to his throat that left him clutching his neck and choking on the ground. She incapacitated the next guard with a couple punches, ducked a swing from one of the burlier orderlies, knocked the legs out from under him, and dispatched the others with a few well-timed screams. By the time she finished and turned back toward Stiles, he was racing out the gates—and heading straight for the dread doctors.

Lydia felt a scream rising in her throat that had nothing to do with her fighting abilities.  _He's going to die. You never gave yourself a chance to make him yours, and then he stopped offering you that chance, and now he's going to die._

"Shut up," she said out loud, gritting her teeth against the people in her head. "Stiles!" she said louder. "Get out of there!"

When he didn't respond, she gulped and chased after him, not caring that the rough steps scratched her feet. She couldn't call his name again—she was too afraid it would come out as a scream this time—so she just hopped the last three steps and wrenched the gate open with shaking hands, praying that he wouldn't die before she got there.

Only… only Stiles wasn't doing so badly. She watched with wide eyes as he dodged a swipe from the dread doctor on the left and grabbed the cloak of the dread doctor on the right. He yanked the cloak hard to the side, and the dread doctor stumbled into his partner, their helmets colliding with a metallic clang. While they were distracted, Stiles reached up and tugged on the left doctor's tubes as hard as he could. Two of them broke free, spewing white gas everywhere. He then repeated the action on the right doctor, and while both of them groped for their loose tubes, he shoved his shoulder into them, putting all of his body weight into the motion. The doctors crumpled into each other.

Just like that, Lydia's urge to scream faded. "Stiles…" she said again, this time in shock.

"Come on, Lydia!" Stiles unlocked his jeep and beckoned her forward. "We don't have much time!"

Lydia allowed herself one long, confused blink, and then she sprinted towards his jeep and threw herself into the passenger seat. "What about Scott and Kira?"

"They have their own ride," he said, shoving his keys into the ignition. "Besides, we promised not to wait for each other."

"Why?" she asked, even though she was pretty sure she knew the answer.

"Because," he said. The jeep roared to life, and he pulled out of the parking lot. "None of us was sure we were going to make it out of there alive."

Lydia dug her nails into the thin fabric of the gown they'd forced her into. "You shouldn't have taken that risk for me."

"Once we found out where you were, we didn't even have to think about it." Stiles didn't take his eyes off the road. "Are you hurt? Do you need to go to the hospital, or—"

"Just take me home." Lydia hated that her voice broke on the word "home", but if Stiles noticed, he didn't comment. They didn't speak again until he pulled into their driveway.

Stiles pulled his keys out of the ignition and just sat there for a moment, looking at her. "I'm going to call Scott," he said finally. "Make sure he and Kira are okay."

"Okay."

"You can go inside if you want. I'm sure your mom is waiting for you."

"Okay."

She didn't move.

Stiles sighed and pulled out his phone.

"Scott? Yeah, are you—" Stiles sighed in relief, and Lydia watched as about half the tension in his shoulders leaked away. "Okay. Okay. Good… Yeah, we're fine. She's fine. It's… Yeah. Scott… I'm glad you're both okay. Yeah. All right. I'll come over later… Yeah. Bye."

Lydia watched his amber eyes the whole time, observing the full range of emotions they displayed. "Scott and Kira are fine, then?" she asked the instant he hung up.

"Yeah," he said, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "They made it out, no problem. Apparently we took out most of the staff."

Once upon a time, a comment like that would have made him grin and come up with some witty one-liner about what a great team they made. Now he kept his eyes focused on his twitching fingers and cleared his throat. "You can go now, Lydia."

She couldn't believe it. "What? That's it?"

"What else is there?"

"You risked your life for me—you all did. You went back to Eichen House even though that place is your worst nightmare, and you got me out, and now you just want to leave again without another word?"

"Yeah," he said, his voice hoarse and scratchy. "Yeah, that sounds about right."

"No."

"Wha… what?"

"No. Stiles Stilinski, get out of the jeep."

"Lydia—"

"I've been in Eichen for  _weeks,_  Stiles. You are going to walk me to my door whether you like it or not."

Stiles froze, still looking at the steering wheel instead of her. Then, slowly, he got out of the jeep. Lydia followed. Silently, awkwardly, they walked to her door. When they reached it, Stiles's fingers twitched. "You… you're sure you're all right?"

"No."

Only that was enough to get him to raise his eyes to hers. "What? Lydia, you told me not to take you to the hospital—"

"I'm not  _hurt_ ," she said, rolling her eyes like this argument was just like any of the countless others they'd had. Like this particular argument wasn't digging a knife into her heart. "But I'm not all right either. Why don't you want to talk to me, Stiles?"

"I… I can't."

"Why not?"

Just like that, he snapped. " _Because!_  Because I didn't get you out of Eichen soon enough, and I'm the reason you got locked up in the first place, and—"

"You're not the reason I got locked up!" Lydia protested. "Theo Raeken—"

"Theo Raeken was only around that long because I couldn't prove that he was up to something," Stiles growled. "I was too afraid of my own secret to see the ones he was keeping right in front of me. I got wrapped up in myself, and it drove the pack apart, and it made you end up in Eichen." He clenched his hands into fists so hard that his arms shook. "I screwed up, Lydia. In fact, I've been screwing up for years. Every shitty thing that's happened to you is at least partly my fault—every shitty thing since Peter Hale attacked you the night of the winter formal. And now this." He gestured at her, and Lydia knew he was pointing out her hospital gown, her stringy hair, the dark circles under her eyes, her face devoid of makeup—every detail that showed her time in Eichen. "All this is my fault, and that's why I can't talk to you. I don't deserve that."

Lydia gaped. "And what about what I deserve? Stiles, you may have hurt me a lot, but you hurt me worst when you started ignoring me. We barely talk anymore, and we definitely don't talk the way we used to. Stiles—" He turned his head away, and Lydia lost it. "Stiles, won't you at least let me tell you how absolutely  _idiotic_ it was for you to come to Eichen tonight?"

Stiles whirled around, his mouth hanging open. "I've done a lot of idiotic things, Lydia," he said. "Getting you out of Eichen tonight wasn't one of them."

"Yes, it was! Can't you see that?" The cold night wind whipped her hospital gown around her legs, making her shiver, but at this point, Lydia had more pressing concerns. "Damn it, Stiles, don't you know why I was so desperate to escape in the first place?"

"Because Eichen House is the shittiest place in Beacon Hills—"

"Because I've been having one of those feelings. One of those awful, all-consuming, banshee feelings that tells me someone is going to die. Ever since I saw Theo bring those chimeras back to life—you know about that, don't you?"

Stiles nodded but didn't open his mouth to speak. For once, he kept his eyes trained on her.

"Well, ever since then, I've felt like someone was about to die. And not just someone— _you_ , Stiles. Scott. Kira. Malia. Liam.  _Every one of my friends_. I was trying to get out of Eichen so I could warn you. And then when I saw you put yourself at risk so many times tonight—and especially when I saw you take on  _two_ dread doctors by yourself—I almost screamed. I thought you were going to die, Stiles, and I couldn't take that! I couldn't take losing my other best friend! Damn it, Stiles, don't you see that? Why would you put yourself at risk like tha—"

" _BECAUSE I FUCKING LOVE YOU!_ You know that! I've spent the last year trying to get over you because that's what you deserve, but I couldn't pull it off because you're Lydia fucking Martin, damn it, and I love you, and when you disappeared I fucking  _lost_ it! I wasn't about to let you stay in that hellhole a second longer than I had to, and I certainly wasn't going to let some dread doctor put his fucking hands on you!"

Somehow, Lydia managed to speak. "But Malia—"

"Malia," he said, "deserves better than an asshole who can't get over the girl he's loved for more than half his life."

Lydia's hands were trembling, but she honestly couldn't care less. She put them in front of her, fingers outstretched, hovering somewhere between touching Stiles's face and hiding her own. "Do you mean that?" she asked, her voice small in the space between their bodies. "Are you really still in love with me?"

"I've loved you since the third grade, and I've been completely, irrevocably in love with you since the beginning of junior year. That isn't about to change. You know that."

"No," she said softly, "I didn't."

Stiles looked at her, eyes suddenly soft and vulnerable as they reflected the porch light. "Well, now you do." His eyes flicked to her hands, still suspended between them, and his eyebrows furrowed. "Lydia, why… why is this so important to you all of a sudden?"

"Because," she told him, "I'm also fucking in love with you." As soon as the words were out in the open, her hands made her decision for her. They reached up and yanked Stiles's face down to hers. When she stood on her tiptoes, their lips met.

In that instant, the air around them ignited. Every inch between them became an awful barrier that they needed to breach. Stiles's hands cupped her thighs over her hospital gown, lifting her up. She hooked her ankles behind his back and grabbed his neck to pull him even closer, sucking on his lips like they were oxygen she needed to consume. "I love you," he gasped as her lips moved to his jawline and he backed her up against the wall of her house. "I love you so fucking much."

When Lydia looked into those amber eyes, she wondered how she ever could have doubted him.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at stilestilikeslydia.tumblr.com! Also I hope I was successful in breaking at least one person's heart with this.


End file.
